Champlain had left his infant colony in charge of Pierre Chauvin, a smart young officer, who now met him outside the palisades with tidings that caused an instant change of plan. The only ship that would return to France that year had dropped down to Tadousac for a lading of furs but two days earlier. For a moment Champlain hesitated, and then his mind was made up. He must board that ship before she sailed, for he had despatches of the utmost importance to send home by her. Thus he must immediately hasten to Tadousac. This decision he imparted to Chauvin, adding,—

"I will shortly return, and until then take thou good care of this youth." Here the speaker indicated Nahma. "See that he escape not, for his security is of importance to our cause. Keep him, then, safely until I come again, when I will inform thee further concerning him. Au revoir, mon ami. May the saints protect thee."

Thus saying, Champlain rejoined his Indian allies, who were impatient to be off, and in another minute was again sweeping down the great river. By his order Nahma had been hastily bundled ashore, and now stood gazing first at the wonderful structures rising close at hand and then at the disappearing canoes. Chauvin stood near by, biting his moustache and growling at his chief's sudden departure.

"I wish I were in his place," he muttered; "and if once I could set foot on shipboard I would sail away never again to revisit this detestable country. How now, you spawn! What are you staring at?" he cried, suddenly turning upon Nahma, who was looking curiously at him.

Chauvin hated Indians as he did everything else in the country that had so bitterly disappointed his dreams of easily acquired wealth, and he was disgusted that one of them should now be left in his care.

"Away with him to the guard-house!" he shouted to a couple of soldiers in attendance, "and keep him in close confinement until the governor's return, since that is his Excellency's order."

So Nahma was roughly hustled away, led inside the palisade, across the enclosed court, and thrust into the guard-house. It was a small structure solidly built of logs, having a rude stone chimney and a single unglazed window some eighteen inches square that was fitted with iron bars and could be closed from the outside by a heavy shutter. There were also bars across the throat of the chimney. The floor was of earth and the room was unfurnished. As the massive door of this dungeon swung to with a crash behind him the young Indian stood for a moment motionless. Then, in a frenzy of rage, he dashed himself against the immovable barrier, clutched at the window-bars in a vain effort to wrench them from their fastenings, and rushed about the narrow space, seeking some outlet, like a wild animal when first caged.

While our lad was thus engaged the door of his prison was again flung open and two soldiers entered. Still possessed by his frenzy, Nahma sprang forward, determined to kill them and make good his escape or die in the attempt; but the sight of a burden that they bore caused him to pause. It was the form of another Indian youth apparently helpless. Behind them came others bringing straw, two blankets, food, and a jug of water. With the straw and blankets they made a bed in one corner, on which they laid the wounded youth. Then without a word to the prisoner they departed, barring the door behind them.

Now our lad had at least something to occupy his mind and divert his thoughts from his own unhappiness. He saw that the new-comer was neither a Huron nor an Iroquois; but as he bent over him and began to ask questions he discovered that they had many words of the wide-spread Algonquin tongue in common. Thus he quickly learned that the other was named Tasquanto, that he was of a band of the Abenakis who had come to Quebec to trade, and that, terrified by the awful noise of cannon, he had leaped from a window and broken a leg. His comrades having deserted him, he had been brought to the guard-house that the only other Indian remaining in the fort might wait upon him.